


Cherry Blossom Bonfire (1/2)

by aridseas



Series: Cherry Blossom Bonfire [1]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aridseas/pseuds/aridseas
Summary: Masaki and Jun are two young men unfortunate enough to be born into a place where only women of the Shogun are allowed to reside. Raised from birth to be female to avoid detection and certain death, they simply wanted to pass each day peacefully at the Ooku, but a chance encounter with Sakurai Sho turns their little world upside down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for a dear friend of mine. ♥ It's recommended to listen to Hana Kagari by Shizukusa Yumi while reading this (especially towards the end), as that song was the inspiration behind this entire idea, and also to which the lyrics found throughout the fic belongs to (translated by Megchan). Please enjoy!

_The flame of my nearly-forgotten memories_  
Begins to light  
Like a firefly, it makes you  
Seem so precious to me 

_How long will that faint nostalgic scent  
Burn in my heart...?_

 

The cherry blossoms were blooming again.

Dozens upon dozens of trees dotted the premises, loosely circling around the castle in yet another unseen bind. Just out of reach from their windows, little blossoms slowly began decorating every branch with pale pinks and whites with each passing day. The soft petals easily broke off the branches in the unusually strong breeze to float down to carpet the garden, touching blades of grass and crafted stone steps which few of them have ever had the privilege to even near.

A lone figure in green flowing robes stood before the large windows, gazing out over the trees with dark eyes that spoke of memories and innocence lost as their flowing unbound hair fluttered in the breeze. The extra presence only seemed to add to what was already a statuesque tableau, but beauty shall always lie in the eye of the beholder.

"Masaki?" A woman in her mid to late forties hovered near the door, her hair coiffed and clothed impeccably in fine silk as she beckoned to the unmoving figure by the window. "I have something to give you. Come with me."

"Yes, mother." The voice that answered her was soft and husky, with a throaty tinge to it that could easily be attributed to the cold, or even an allergic reaction to the pollen that floated through the air unseen. With one last glance outside, Masaki turned away from the window and approached the doorway.

"You grow more beautiful every year," Masaki's mother sighed - perhaps out of pride, perhaps out of admiration, or even the slightest hint of alarm - as she reached out and brushed a long strand of hair back in place. "It's enough to confound your own mother into wondering what I had originally given birth to."

"Masaki." A hand came up to clasp over hers gently, as Masaki finally looked down at her and smiled. "You gave birth to Masaki."

"Masaki," she agreed, her eyes flooding with soft affection for the figure standing before her as her voice dropped to a whisper. Only then could she ever speak out loud the words she needed to hear, a reminder to shatter those over-realistic illusions:

"My precious little boy..."

* * *

Masaki was by no means the first nor the last male to live in the Ooku past puberty.

What makes the difference, the other ladies had told his mother, is not only how early she must start training him, but also a natural affinity for femininity which must be born with and not cultivated; it determines whether a boy would live to see the sun rise every morning or be dragged out into the killing yards, never to be seen again.

To his mother's immense relief, Masaki had integrated smoothly into everyday life at the Ooku. While she couldn't afford him a higher post than that of a common maid - any higher would run the risk of discovery, a risk she would never be willing to take - she made sure he lived in relative luxury compared to those in similar positions. It was the least she could do, she felt, after condemning her own son to a life of pretense out of her own selfishness.

All his life, Masaki never learned anything besides how a woman should speak, how a woman should dress, and how a woman should act. He grew up surrounded by women whose lives revolved around one pinnacle figure, a person he might never have even seen apart from drawings on the wall and in his books if he had obeyed orders to never look at him.

In spite of that, he remained fully aware of his true identity at all times. After all, he lived, quite literally, with a constant reminder of who he really was under all those layers of dresses and cosmetics, and it was something he would probably be eternally grateful for.

"Shall we go, Masaki?"

Masaki turned at the call of his name and nodded at the slender figure beside him as he picked up his own bucket. "I'm ready, Jun."

Jun had shared a room with him ever since he could remember. They first learned how to style their own hair on each other, cleaned and mended and naturally looked after one another when one was sick as well. The other women often liked to joke that they were closer than sisters born attached at the hip, a pair of fraternal twins who looked nothing alike but nonetheless an equal match in beauty and grace.

It certainly wasn't difficult to imagine as they walked side by side along the narrow hallway, their soft words and laughter filtering through air that began to grow heavier the closer they drew to the humid bathing rooms.

"Quickly now, before they come in to replace the water," Jun warned once the door slid close behind them. They began stripping themselves of all clothing without delay, the folds of clean cotton that had been wrapped around Jun with care soon falling away to reveal a chest as flat as his own.

While most attempts by the ladies to conceal their sons at the castle usually ended in failure, there would always be exceptions; Masaki was one of them, and Jun was another.

Jun's mother been close friends with Masaki's mother. As girls, they had entered the castle around the same time; as women, they climbed the rungs of the hierarchical ladder side by side, even conceived soon after one another. Promises were made to raise their children together, presents bought and handcrafted for each unborn child.

But Jun's mother passed away from complications during childbirth, and when the baby boy originally thought to be stillborn was found to be barely alive, Masaki's mother had taken him in without another thought, exercising all the privileges she had within her power to save his life and keep his identity hidden. To most ladies at the castle, Jun was a simple orphan born to deceased relatives of Masaki's mother, and only adopted out of kindness and fealty; even Masaki himself was not privy to the fact despite considering Jun one of the most important people to him for all of eternity.

"Turn around," Jun instructed once Masaki had stowed away their clothing, a cloth already in hand as he waited for his order to be obeyed. He began scrubbing before Masaki had turned completely to face the opposite direction, running the washcloth over his back and shoulders with deft familiarity. "You had to help clean the great halls today, didn't you?"

"I did..." Masaki rotated his neck with a sigh, reaching up with one hand to brush his loosened locks over one shoulder and out of the way so Jun could continue his task uninterrupted. "We didn't manage to finish until nightfall."

"I would have helped if they didn't chain me to the kitchens to prepare for the banquet," Jun groused as he rubbed at Masaki's skin in soothing circles, steadily working those tightened muscles loose. "You would think we were expecting a crowd of 100-strong to attend with the amount of food we were making."

"But Jun has a talent for cooking," Masaki pointed out, hiding a smile behind his hand - for all that Jun couldn't see it from his vantage point - as he continued thoughtfully, "And if they gave you cleaning duty we'd probably still be scrubbing right now, given how crazed you get about scouring everything for signs of even a single fleck of dust..."

The hands on his back stopped abruptly. Just as Masaki turned around to see what was wrong, a rush of hot water from above his head drenched him from head to toe before he could even utter a surprised yelp. Jun stood behind him, an empty bucket in his hands as he watched Masaki sputter and push his hair away from his face with undisguised satisfaction.

"What was that for?" Masaki protested as he glared up at the unrepentant culprit.

Jun shrugged. "There was a fleck of dust on your head," he deadpanned, and, realizing Masaki was searching his immediate surroundings for something to retaliate with, slowly began to back away. "Now Masaki, you know that isn't a very lady-like thing to do..."

"And what you did was?" Masaki grinned as he hefted his own pailful of water and advanced towards the other young man. "Don't run away, coward!"

The lateness of their bath provided adequate cover as sounds of boyish laughter and water splashing soon filled the air, a rare man's battle taking place within the sacred bathing rooms of Ooku. It would be a while before the two figures finally emerge from behind those doors, once again the subdued and dainty servants they were supposed to be as they returned quietly to their room for the night.

* * *

The morning of the banquet saw a flurry of activity at the Ooku, as servants rushed from one place to another to finish up last minute duties and upper-class ladies meticulously readied themselves for the auspicious occasion.

Though formally referred to as a banquet, the dinner to be held the following evening was a relatively small affair, little more than an opportunity for the Shogun to show off his massive harem to the envoys who had traveled from afar to pay their respects. Nevertheless, the entire place had been cleaned from top to bottom in anticipation of its pending visitors, and for all of Masaki's teasing earlier about Jun's overzealous cleanliness, one would really be hard pressed to find signs of negligence in any of the rooms.

An impressive display of the Shogun's wealth and power naturally included not only the highest ranked ladies and the lavish settings, but extended to the lower servants as well, even the ones that dealt with the most menial of tasks. Every single woman of remote importance at the Ooku was required to dress in the finest garments they owned and present themselves at the dinner prior to the meal.

Once their daily routines were seen to and the matrons had run out of things for them to do, Masaki and Jun wasted no time excusing themselves from the hustle and bustle that overtook their living quarters. While neither of them were looking forward to the banquet quite like some of their friends did - after all, being chosen by the Shogun was hardly at the top of their lists of priority - it was still an exciting event, a rare deviation from the monotony of their mundane lives.

The make up came first for them, applied with the utmost of care and particular emphasis towards their eyes, often praised by others to be the best feature of their faces. Jun ignored Masaki's mild fidgeting as he patted specks of gold in place at the corner of his eye for him, leaning back to inspect his masterpiece one more time before giving his nod of approval at last. Though he allowed Masaki to apply the foundation layer for him, he insisted on drawing all the detailing himself— because he doesn't trust Masaki to do a good job of it, he joked affectionately.

They then wasted no time in retrieving their best clothing and jewelry from the chests in which they had been carefully stored for such occasions. After a moment's pause to examine their collection - by no means meager, thanks to the generosity of Masaki's mother - Masaki picked out a dark green kimono for himself, adorned simply with a subdued cherry blossom print, and a more vibrant mix of red and gold embroidering on purple silk for Jun.

Where Masaki had a more intuitive sense for fashion, Jun came out on top when it came to attention to detail; once Masaki had chosen outfits and accompanying accessories for the both of them to wear, it was Jun's turn to get to work, carefully adjusting the layered collars of Masaki's garment and tucking in his sash just so. He paid even more attention to Masaki's hair, spending so much time brushing and styling that it even prompted Masaki to make a joke about feeling like he was about to be married off. It earned him an annoyed poke to the face with a hair pin, and a deliberately longer wait before Jun finally stepped away.

"Alright, you're done."

"Finally!" Masaki could hardly wait to rise from his seat when it was all over. Only a pointed cough from Jun halted him from bounding straight out into the hallway; with a sheepish smile, he straightened his sleeves and waited obediently for Jun by the door.

Their trek towards the great hall was interrupted numerous times by friends and upper-class servants who felt the need to comment on their attire. Some of them were genuine, some admiring, but there was also the occasional barb hidden behind dripping honey. Jun fielded those with ease, sometimes even directing his own subtle retort back when he felt confident they would be able to get away with it— either the recipient was too dim to understand the insult, or too far down the ladder to do much damage to either him or Masaki.

Outside the building, the rays of the sun were beginning to weaken, the light that streamed in through the windows dimming and gradually fading into oblivion as servant girls hurried around lighting lanterns left and right. Soon, the great temple bells of the corridor will ring to announce the arrival of the Shogun and his guests. Soon, the banquet shall begin.

* * *

It had been a long while since the Shogun paid a visit, and even longer since he had brought guests with him.

The Shogun strode past the gates - specially unlocked for this very occasion - and into the reception hall as the last echoes of the tolling bells died away. A small group of women stood at the fore to greet them; they included the Shogun's immediate family members, the Otoshiyori, the elders, and several others whose statuses were high enough for them to meet his eyes, Masaki's mother somewhere amongst them. Lining the walls and hallway further back were the servants for whom eye contact was explicitly forbidden, ordered according to rank. Everyone, even those most intimate to the Shogun, kept their heads bowed in respect as the entourage of men approached.

It was a true testament to both the powers wielded by Masaki's mother and their own adaptability to see how close to the front Masaki and Jun were allowed to stand. Not for the first time, Masaki found himself thanking the gods for his tallness as he snuck a peek over the tops of heads lowered before him at the figures passing by. He hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of the Shogun like he had been hoping, but he did make out the profiles of several men who had followed behind him— one had a scar on his cheek, another with a sharp face like a hawk, and a third with a roundness to his features that reminded him of the mice he used to catch as a child. Carefully, he filed each detail away in his mind to relate back to Jun later. He would most likely be reprimanded by Jun for breaking the rules, but he knew Jun was just as - if not even more - curious about the outside world than he was.

They stayed silent and still as the Shogun gave a brief speech, his voice loud and clear in the spacious room. It was a rich voice that commanded awe and respect, and very easy to lose oneself in. Masaki had to forcibly pull his thoughts away when the visitors began speaking, one after another. He was soon overcome by curiosity; which voice, he wondered, belonged to which guest? Perhaps the scar-faced man would be gruff, the hawk-faced man curt... surely, then, the last man would have a high, squeaky voice to go with his rodent-like features?

The thought was enough to amuse him for the remainder of their long wait. Several minutes passed before the Shogun began to move again, and still more time continued to tick by until they were finally allowed to break formation and return to their tasks, long after the last guest had disappeared into the dining hall.

"I saw you smiling to yourself earlier," Jun noted immediately as they fell into step on their way to the kitchens, where they would receive trays of diligently assembled dishes to serve at the banquet. Without hesitation, Masaki filled him in on what he had seen.

"—how many times must I tell you to keep your head down?"

Just as he had predicted, the first words out of Jun's mouth were scolding ones; Masaki merely stuck his tongue out at him with a guilty smile, a brief flicker of pink between stained red lips that made Jun give pause for an imperceptible instant before firing off another round of blistering lectures.

Luckily for Masaki, they soon reached the kitchens, where Jun was forced to drop the topic and instead accept a tray with the first course of the meal already laid out. As there was no shortage of serving girls for the guests, they were each assigned to a specific man for the duration of the banquet.

"I wonder if I'll be serving the rodent-looking one," Masaki mused out loud as they returned - much more slowly this time - to the hall with their ladened trays. "I hope so, he seemed nice for all that I only took a peek at him."

"What does it matter?" Jun wasn't quite so enthusiastic as Masaki, deftly bursting his small bubble of excitement as he shifted the wooden tray in his hands. "Remember, we're not even supposed to meet their eyes."

Masaki shot him a slightly put off glance. "Are you not interested at all? They came from the outside world, you know. They—"

"And why are you so interested?" Jun fired back with unexpected heat. "Because they're men? Because you're looking to marry yourself off to one of them and leave this forsaken place for good? Don't be so naive, Masaki!"

Masaki stopped in his tracks and stared at Jun in stunned silence. In all of their years together, it was the first time Jun had ever raised his voice at him like this, let alone say such purposely hurtful things. It wasn't like Jun at all, but as Masaki opened his mouth to respond, a dry cough brought their quickly escalating conversation to a halt.

"Masaki, Jun." It was Masaki's mother calling from the doorway, a gentle reprove as she gestured at the forgotten trays clutched in their hands. "The esteemed guests are waiting for their food."

Without waiting for Jun, Masaki brushed by him with his head down, bowing once at his mother before stepping into the room. He missed Jun hanging his head briefly with a sigh of frustration, and the understanding touch to the elbow that his mother gave him as he followed behind. So filled was Masaki's mind of thoughts, all of which swirled around Jun's abnormal behaviour, that he almost passed over the man he was supposed to serve; quickly catching himself, he retraced his steps and knelt beside the table. A soft chuckle near his ear told him the guest had noticed his slight blunder, and his head lowered even further as he felt his cheeks begin to warm.

"I'm very sorry," he murmured under his breath as he set the tray down.

"Everyone makes mistakes." The voice was a warm one, low and carrying just a hint of amusement. It took much of Masaki's control to refrain from glancing up to see what the owner of such a friendly sounding voice might look like, and he apologized one last time before straightening up. Like earlier, he would also fail to realize the man's gaze had been on him the entire time, never straying once from his initial appearance to his hasty departure.

To Masaki, time seemed to crawl by for the rest of the banquet. He couldn't speak with Jun - while he was unsure of the reasons why, he was certain the younger man was angry with him - and he was still smarting over his slip-up (in front of the Shogun's guest, no less), however minor it might have been. Making such a silly mistake not only brought shame to himself, but to his mother and the elders who had taught him his manners. He could hardly wait to be dismissed from the dinner so he could partake in his own in the servants' commons adjacent to the Shogun's. While they were not allowed to dine in the same room, they were nevertheless required to be close by, constantly on hand in case they were needed. Taking his tray with a nod of thanks at Michiko, the girl handing out their meals, he turned and sought out a place to sit.

"Over here," Jun called above the din, and gestured at the empty seat he had been saving beside him.

Realizing there were no more seats available nearby, Masaki took the seat, shifting uncomfortably as he raised his chopsticks with a distracted murmur of thanks. "You're... not angry anymore?" he ventured after a moment, his food left untouched for the moment.

Jun spared him a glance as he picked out a piece of fish. "Who said I was angry?"

"But..." Jun sure was still acting like he was, Masaki finished the sentence in his head as reached for his bowl of soup. He blinked as a slender hand filled his vision, the chopsticks it held empty when it was drawn away, and the sashimi slice previously caught between them now resting atop his rice. "Jun..."

"I'm sorry," Jun interrupted gruffly as he began to eat with a pointed air that was clearly meant to deter further conversing.

Masaki shook his head with a smile as he raised the sashimi to his lips and bit into it. "I know you meant well." He was rewarded by Jun's own smile of relief, and they finally turned their attention back on their meals in comfortable silence.

The peace would soon prove to be fleeting.

Jun was the first to notice something amiss when Masaki suddenly reached for his cup of tea with a frown. The unsteadiness of his hand only served to knock the entire thing over, but he fumbled next for his soup instead of cleaning it up, seemingly desperate for anything to ease his parched throat.

"Masaki?" Jun set his chopsticks down immediately, leaving the piece of sashimi he had been about to eat lying on the plate as he raised a hand to touch Masaki's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

His hand was shrugged off as Masaki, by now pale and trembling, brought one hand to his mouth, covering it shakily while his other hand went up around his throat. "Jun— Jun—" Panic-filled eyes darted towards him, but Jun could do nothing but grit his teeth in frustration at the sense of pure helplessness that flooded over him. The other servants were also beginning to take notice, a couple even approaching them in concern when Masaki suddenly bent over and began to retch.

"MASAKI!!"

* * *

It was with disappointment that Sakurai watched as the girl who had been serving him took away his final course of the evening. She had taken what had otherwise been an incredibly boring, standard dinner and made it worth sitting through; her slip-up had been endearing, her reaction to his assurance even more so. He looked forward to each course because it meant she would be back to studiously ignore all of his attempts to draw her attention.

While she refused to engage in his attempts for eye contact - understandable, he acknowledged - she had no qualms about looking down at his table, in particular the neat little origami crane he began to make out of a scrap piece of paper from his pocket that gradually took form every time she returned. Her movements were graceful, her reflexes sharp, and she had a matching curiosity to go with them, if the way her eyes had been drawn to his hands was any indication. By the time all the servants retreated from the room to make way for the entertainment portion of their evening, Sakurai had to admit he was a bit taken with the curious girl in green. With a sigh, he settled in his seat for what would undoubtedly be a long night of feigning interest ahead.

Several girls had shuffled into the room and begun to dance when the doors slid open again, revealing a visibly agitated servant girl who made a beeline for a beautiful woman kneeling near the Shogun. Her urgent whispering into the woman's ear did not go unheeded; with a few soft words to excuse herself, the woman stood up swiftly and turned away from the festivities. Curiosity piqued, Sakurai strained his ear to listen in on their hushed conversation as they neared his seat.

"How can such a thing happen?" The older woman was asking sharply.

"—started shaking, just heaving and gasping—" From the way she spoke, the girl sounded close to hysterics; he couldn't help a touch of admiration for the way they both managed to maintain such a relatively calm outward countenance.

"Excuse me," Sakurai broke in when they passed by, effectively bringing the entire performance to a halt as he rose to his feet. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Is something wrong?"

He should have foreseen the apologizing that he would have to deal with first before getting down to the heart of the matter, Sakurai realized with dismay as both women bowed low to him at once, but he drew himself up to his full height and continued, "I am a practitioner of medicine. Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"What is the matter? Yukari." Even the Shogun had joined them by then, further adding to Sakurai's regret about making a scene - inadvertently or not - and putting the women in an awkward position.

"One of the servants has fallen ill in the next room," Yukari replied dutifully. The way her eyes darted towards the room suggested there was more to her simple explanation, something Sakurai took note of as he stepped forward.

"Lead me to her," he instructed first, then turned to the Shogun with a polite bow. "While I believe the honorable Tokugawa-sama employs excellent doctors in this magnificent abode, time is the absolute key to saving the life of a fellow human."

"Indeed." The Shogun gave a grim nod after a moment's pause. "You may go."

The servants' commons was in an uproar by the time Sakurai followed the women inside. Sakurai had never seen any servants in such distress before; a space had been cleared in the middle of the room for the afflicted, and it was with astonishment that he found the same serving girl whom had his eye on in the midst of it, by all appearances in the throes of a mild seizure.

"Step aside," he commanded sharply. The sound of his voice alone was enough to send most of the girls scurrying - the Shogun had trained his women well - all save for one, who continued to hold the trembling girl in her arms as if he had never spoken. "I'm a doctor," he explained in a lighter tone as he reached out and drew a stubbornly clinging arm away. "Let me take a look at her."

The girl finally looked up at him then, eyes glassy with emotion as she finally released her friend - a very close one, Sakurai surmised - and scooted back. "Please save her," she whispered.

Sakurai wasted no time in beginning his examination. First, he checked her pulse, then the pupils for signs of dilation. The girl stared back at him uncomprehendingly as his hands moved over her, but he considered it a good sign, because it meant she was at least still conscious. As he worked, he peppered the other girl with questions— what had they been doing leading up to this, had she eaten anything strange, and how long ago was that? Each answer he received only served to confirm his initial diagnosis; with a grave shake of his head, he gathered the trembling figure into his arms and, as he propped her upper torso up against his chest, promptly stuck two fingers in her mouth.

Her friend sprang to her feet instantly. "What are you doing to her!?" she demanded with blazing eyes.

"Lemon juice and indigo dye. Bring them immediately." Sakurai ignored her outburst, calmly tilting the girl's head forward slightly as his fingers delved deeper. "Don't panic. You'll be alright." he murmured soothingly when he felt her tense.

"Jun, please, just do as he says," Yukari finally spoke up. After one last, loathing glare at Sakurai, the girl turned on her heel and ran out of the room. Yukari let out a soft sigh as she watched her go before turning back towards Sakurai, her anxiety almost palpable as she took a step closer. "Doctor... do you know what is wrong with her?"

It wasn't until the body against his finally began gagging on his fingers and vomiting up the contents of her stomach all over his hands and the front of her kimono that he chose to reply to her, tone remaining calm all throughout. "From all the symptoms she has displayed thus far, I suspect cyanide poisoning, but I cannot confirm that without holding a few tests first."

The girl named Jun was back in record time with two ceramic jars in her hands, both of which she held to herself protectively instead of handing them over right away. "What are you going to do with these?" she asked with a quelling stare.

"I'm going to save your friend's life with them," Sakurai answered, a touch of impatience finally creeping its way into his tone. "Mix them together and give it to me."

He could see the unvoiced questions forming in Jun's mind - how could mixing lemon juice and fabric dye possibly save someone's life? - but he simply met her incredulous gaze with a steady one of his own until her hands moved to follow his instructions with reluctance.

Swirling the liquid inside the jar one last time as he brought it up to her lips, Sakurai spoke softly in her ear once again. "It will taste awful, but I need you to drink this down. Can you do it?" His worry that the girl had lost consciousness was dispelled with the weak nod that followed his question after a moment's pause. He watched closely as her throat worked to swallow the unsavory concoction, whispering encouragements into her ear when she began coughing and making sure she had drained all of its contents before finally setting it down. "Where is her room?" he asked as he carefully slipped one arm under her knees, supporting her upper torso with his other arm behind her neck before raising to his feet.

"Sakurai-sama?" Yukari looked startled.

"She needs to lie down and be kept warm," he explained as he headed for the door. The servants crowded around them parted ways immediately, clearing a straight path for him and the girl he was carrying. "Walking will only aggravate the poison circulating in her system. Where is her room?"

"I will take you there." Jun moved forward with a nod at his by now unconscious friend. "We share a room together."

Sakurai acknowledged his offer with a slight dip of his head. "Very well. Lead the way, then."

"But..." It was Yukari who hesitated now, visibly torn between duty and concern for the girl whom Sakurai was now certain had to be more than a simple servant to her.

"Please relay to Tokugawa-sama that I will look after her for the remainder of the evening in fulfillment of my duty as a practitioner," Sakurai said gravely, knowing full well the Shogun would not be able to object when he put it that way. To do so would be an insult to both him and the lord he represented by attending tonight's banquet, and an extra presence in the room also added insurance that he would not engage in any indecent behavior with her.

As he would expect from a woman chosen among many to stay close to the Shogun, Yukari seemed to catch on quickly as well, her eyes first registering surprise, then gratitude as the implications behind his words became clear. "Then I shall leave Masaki in your care. Thank you very much for your kindness, Sakurai-sama."

Sakurai returned her deep bow with one of his own, as well as he could manage while holding onto the girl in his arms. "I shall take my leave now. Goodnight." He left the room with one last nod at all the bowing servants that saw him out, Yukari among them, and turned expectantly towards his guide.

"This way," Jun said briskly, the glance she shot over her shoulder full of worry as she took off down the hall. "It's not too far from here."

Sakurai looked down at the bundle in his arms, the tightly closed eyes and the lower lip caught between whitened teeth in obvious discomfort. Despite the admittedly unfortunate circumstances, he finally had a name to go with the girl who had occupied his thoughts the entire evening.

"Masaki..."

* * *

Jun's mind was racing with every step he took that brought them closer and closer to the room they shared. Where had the poison come from? _Why_ was Masaki even poisoned? Could it perhaps have been meant for him instead? Not only was he already overwhelmed with concern for Masaki and confusion about the entire situation, he will have to somehow keep their identities safe without arousing suspicions from the quick-witted man who was ready, by all appearances, to tend to Masaki all night. He knew instinctively that Sakurai poised a real danger to both of them; he was too smart, too perceptive for much to slip by him. If he found out for any reason that Masaki was male...

Jun came to a stop in front of their door and took a deep breath to steady his nerves before sliding it open. "We're here."

"Where shall I set her down?" Sakurai inquired as he ventured into the room, eyes sweeping over the sparse furniture with a bland expression that made it impossible to guess at his thoughts.

"I will need to change her clothing for her first," Jun announced as he hurried to lay out a futon for Masaki to rest upon, all but praying to the gods that it would be enough to get Sakurai and his prying eyes out of the room long enough for Masaki's secret to stay a secret for a while longer. "Will Sakurai-sama be so kind as to wait outside while I do so?" His gaze locked upon the crouching form that was setting Masaki down with extreme gentleness. He had to physically refrain himself from wringing his hands out of nervousness as he waited for a response, busying them instead with picking out a simple garment for Masaki to wear in place of his soiled kimono.

There was no reason why Sakurai would refuse, not unless he was audacious enough to disrespect the Shogun by seeing one of his women in the nude (whether the Shogun himself had ever bedded either of them was inconsequential)... but Sakurai did not budge from his spot at his words. What he uttered instead made Jun stiffen in shock, his mind blanking entirely as ice began to seep through his veins.

"You are hiding something, are you not?"

It took a moment for Jun to recover his voice, and it was with a soft sound of forced laughter that he demurred and gave a small bow. "What could two lowly servants possibly be hiding, my lord?"

"You've hid it well." Sakurai continued as he reached out and brushed away a loosened lock of hair from Masaki's face, letting his finger trail lightly along his jaw until it came to a rest against the front of his throat. "I can barely detect the outline of his Adam's apple beneath all this makeup."

Jun gritted his teeth at the deliberate change in pronouns. Sakurai was plainly dropping all pretense and getting to the heart of the matter, but he wasn't ready as yet to betray his closest friend. "Sakurai-sama...?"

"I take it from your reaction that you know about Masaki's real gender, then," Sakurai mused as he finally raised his head to meet Jun's narrowed eyes. "Or are you also hiding a secret of your own?"

Jun lifted his chin slightly and returned Sakurai's calm gaze with a glare of helplessness mixed with barely contained rage, refusing to speak and confirm for Sakurai what he had already guessed correctly. It was ironic that the man who had just saved Masaki's life would shatter it mere moments later, a twisted joke played by the gods which Jun found difficult to accept. He tore his eyes away from the man before him and turned his head to the side, focusing on the painting Masaki had given him for his birthday several years ago as his eyes began to burn with the familiar sensation that always preceded tears. They often teased each other for crying easily, but if this wasn't an appropriate situation to shed tears over, then what was? Who knew if he would even get the opportunity to ever cry again? "What are you going to do?"

There was no immediate answer to his question. He could hear rustling, then the sound of footsteps. Jun finally looked back in disbelief when the door slid open. "What—"

"First, I will step outside so you can help Masaki change into something cleaner and more comfortable than what he currently has on," Sakurai said with a hint of a smile as he stepped outside. "Then I will check his vitals again before we sit down and talk further."

There was no need for him to elaborate; Jun knew exactly what he was referring to, and he had no chance to ask even if he wanted to anyway, because Sakurai had already drawn the door shut. Jun bit his lip as he dropped to his knees beside the unconscious figure on the ground and set the clean robe down beside him.

"I'm sorry, Masaki," he whispered as he reached out for the disheveled sash around Masaki's waist with shaking hands. "Please forgive me..."


End file.
